Little Boxes
by HotChilliGriffin
Summary: Bomber/Nav friendship, post s3. Slightly angsty. Oneshot.


**Little Boxes**

"Why?"

The single syllable was so laced with pain, Nikki hesitated for a moment. Her hair was beginning to break free of its rushed ponytail, leaving her with long dark strands hanging down beside her face. It wasn't usually a bad look, but today it just seemed to accentuate the exhaustion etched into her features. Her cheek bones were more prominent, her eyes slightly sunken. To someone who didn't know her, she just looked like she'd missed a night's sleep.

Bomber, however, had been there, had watched her struggle through it all, and there was no fooling her. Her own ruffled hair and the mismatch of orange shirt and yellow jeans indicated that she'd come over in a rush. Nikki wasn't particularly interested in her appearance, however; turning away from the front door, she returned to placing various objects into neatly labelled and categorised boxes. Bomber stepped into the house, taking the silence as an invitation – or at least, as a lack of rejection.

There had been no warning. Nikki must have informed the captain and Navcom of her decision to leave, but she'd waited until the very end to break it to the crew. Some had been shocked. Some hadn't. Most expressed sadness, and a statement of how much they would miss her. But Bomber had been silent, and had even forgone the leaving party at the pub that evening.

Nikki watched silently as the redhead now nudged the closest cardboard box with one foot. Black felt pen marked the contents as "Casual Shirts". Eventually feeling Nikki's eyes on her, Bomber looked up. Her eyebrows drew together, almost to a frown; an expression of suspicious hurt usually seen on young children.

"Why?" she repeated. Lowering her gaze, Nikki understood why her friend wasn't reacting to the news with her trademark fury. This was a hurt she couldn't ease by throwing eggs, and Nikki had the feeling she had never faced one of those before.

"You can't guess?" Nikki replied slowly, removing a framed picture from the wall and placing it gently atop it's once-neighbour in a box.

"I don't see how it's relevant," Bomber said stiffly. 'It', of course, was a subtle reference to Josh's death. While Nikki was perfectly able to cope with speaking about her dead fiancé – indeed, she took every opportunity to talk about him – other people treated his name like a piece of porcelain.

"No-one can..." She sighed, and started again. "I've never known Hammersley without him. It's... wrong."

She moved down the hallway, towards the kitchen. Sitting on the bench was yet another box, this one marked, "Cups/Glasses". As Nikki reached up towards a pile of clean mugs resting on the bench, Bomber swiftly moved to stand in the way.

"Neither have I. And I'm not leaving," she muttered, a glare finally appearing. In this environment, rank played absolutely no part; Bomber was talking to her as a friend, and as friends they were equals.

"You didn't love him," Nikki said after a second, pushing past to continue packing.

"But he was a mate. And so are you. I don't want to lose you, too." The sad-eyes were back, and Nikki swallowed. This was why she hadn't told anyone, why she had kept the secret as long as possible; because if it all happened quickly, she wouldn't have to dwell on the thought of leaving all her friends behind.

"I..." she began, then broke off. She had no idea what to say. Glancing outside, she saw the shadows on the grass lengthening. "I'd better hurry up. I need to be ready in the morning."

"Buffer and Spider are leaving, too." Nikki finished stacking the mugs and moved to the next box, as Bomber continued to talk. "You want to leave me alone on a boat with 2Dads?" She shook her head, not in answer to the rhetorical, but as if she was trying to block out the sound. "Why didn't you at least _say_ something?"

Groaning softly, Nikki moved to rest against the opposite wall of the kitchen. Bomber was still giving the Look, and Nikki couldn't help but lower her gaze. She wasn't supposed to feel guilty. She'd wanted it to be fast, easy, painless. If not for Bomber, it would have been.

"Couldn't you have given us some warning?" the chef finished softly.

Nikki's calm expression vanished as she finally met her friend's eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I thought this would be... better."

"Better? How? I thought we were friends. And I find out from the X that you're moving to Sydney."

"That's how it works," Nikki deflected, but Bomber shook her head, grimacing.

"No. You wanted a transfer. But you didn't need to leave. You're running away."

For a few moments, there was silence. Nikki looked around the house, at the walls and floors and the two empty rooms she could see from her current position. Anything but to look at Bomber. Kate was a good friend, but she wasn't a best friend, so Bomber's arrival had been good for Nikki. Whether it was food or charts, they both held their craft in high esteem, and didn't take kindly to other people invading their workspace. Somewhat unexpectedly, Bomber's fiery attitude blended perfectly with Nikki's controlled enthusiasm, whether on patrol or leave.

"I'm not running away," Nikki said eventually, still unable to look at Bomber. "I'm trying to move on."

"By abandoning your friends and moving to the other side of the country? You could have left him behind without leaving us."

"No, I..." Nikki sighed. "It's complicated. I don't want to talk about it." With that, she pushed away from the bench and moved slowly towards the back door. Rays of soft red light were playing on the grass, and the pale blue of the evening sky was tinged with pink.

"Is it because here reminds you of –"

"For a start, _his_ name was Josh. Or ET," Nikki snapped, spinning around. "And no. This has nothing to do with him."

"It's all about you," Bomber finished, voice low and silky. She stepped closer, and cursed the fact that she had to tilt her head to meet Nikki's eyes. "It's all about Nikki's pain and Nikki's grief. It's all about what Nikki has to do to free herself from her failed marriage." Bomber had moved beyond standard pissed off. She was angry and damn close to crying, she was hurting inside and she was going to do her best to hurt back. "It's all about Nikki closing herself off, so she can keep crying for as long as possible."

"Shut up," Nikki hissed, eyes widening in fury. "It is about me, but it's none of that."

"Then tell me!" Bomber demanded.

Nikki hesitated, licking her lips. "I can't," she said after a moment.

"Can't or won't?" Bomber growled bitterly, then immediately answered her own question. "Won't, because there's nothing stopping you from talking to me."

"I don't want to tell people... then have to come back, and tell them I failed," Nikki said haltingly.

Some of Bomber's anger faded into confusion, and she frowned. "Failed at what?"

Nikki chewed her top lip for a few moments, and turned away from the conversation again. Once more facing the back lawn, she seemed able to gather her thoughts. "I'm going to be alone in Sydney. I need to learn how to stop relying on other people."

"Alone?" Bomber scoffed. "I bet you'll have a whole new group of friends by the first night. And they'll tell you everything and they'll wait for you to tell them _something_, but by then you've already skipped town." Each word was harsh and guttural, as she swallowed every tear that went anywhere near the surface.

"No, Bomb," Nikki replied softly, refusing to meet anger with anger. "I don't think I will. I don't want to make new friends."

"Then prove to me that we were friends. Let me hope that we're still friends. Give me a _reason_ –"

"I'm going to HMAS Watson," Nikki burst out, then clamped her mouth shut. Bomber narrowed her eyes, not quite understanding. Swallowing, Nikki continued haltingly. "I'm trying for a promotion. And I have no idea if I'm professional enough, if I'm good enough... and I don't want anyone to know. Because if it doesn't work out, they'll blame Josh. No-one is willing to blame me anymore. Any mistakes I make, they're because I'm upset. If I lose the plot, it's because I'm grieving."

The first glint of understanding shone in Bomber's eyes, but she seemed unable to speak.

"I want to be able to make my _own_ mistakes," Nikki continued. "You're right. It's about me. I'm trying to move on, and I can't do that here, because no-one will let me."

Bomber sucked in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "But you should have told us."

"When I'm done with the course... whether or not I get the promotion... I'll come back. And you'll look at me and see something more than Josh's almost-widow."

"I don't see –"

"Every time you see me, you pause and try to evaluate how I'm doing. Before you say anything, you stop to think about how I might take it. I don't want that."

Outside, the sun dropped over the horizon, dusky light playing gently on the windowsill. Nikki didn't turn around, but watched as the orange rays faded from view, and listened as the final bird songs broke off. She knew she had to get pack to packing; she'd been living here for years, and there was enough stuff in her house to prove it. It had to be ready to go by morning, and she'd only just begun. But she just couldn't make herself move. As soon as she turned around, she'd have to face Bomber's reproachful eyes, and she wasn't sure she could keep the fight going.

It wasn't until the grass was hidden by a cloak of black shadows that she realised how long she'd been standing there. Bomber was completely silent, and Nikki wondered for a moment if the chef had given up and left without her noticing. She glanced around, and blue-green eyes met brown once again.

Nikki sighed. "When I come back, you'll see me. Just me."

"When will that be?" Bomber asked quietly. The fire was gone, and so was the hurt. What was left was a dull acceptance, which was almost harder to listen to than the previous barricade of emotions.

"I don't know," Nikki sighed. "A while. But I'll call you. And email. We're still going to be friends, and stay in touch."

Bomber's lips twisted sadly. "That's what they all say."

Nikki felt a pang, and realised that things between them would never be the same. But... wasn't that the point? Things needed to change, because she was sick of the pity. Things had to change, because this wasn't working.

"Hey," Bomber called softly, breaking into her thoughts. Nikki looked up, in time to reach out and catch a soft paperback book. "Where's the box for these?"


End file.
